


To all a Fate is set

by forlornwind



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, War of Wrath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 23:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlornwind/pseuds/forlornwind
Summary: Elrond sees his father in the skies. Eärendil does not see him. Gil-galad is torn, but he is also King, and he decides that he can't be both.





	To all a Fate is set

**Author's Note:**

> This work uses mentions [cycas' Timeline](http://cycas.tumblr.com/post/165808733434/a-made-up-timeline-for-the-war-of-wrath) to build young Elrond's role in the War of Wrath and how he came to see Eärendil slaying Ancalagon the Black and the breaking of Thangorodrim. I am a particular fan of a rocky start to Elrond and Ereinion Gil-galad's relationship, so we will see that here as well.

Ash and soot clung to his black locks. Every body fallen came the dreaded earthquakes that vibrated from West Beleriand. It’s either a coincidental rhythm or there are too many winged beings. He slayed so many men now he lost count. Men. Why, why were they on the side of Morgorth? Elrond no longer justified the swing of his sword as he cut down every last one who came down the mountains.

The roar of dragons over the horizon became his horn. It was ironic, but he liked it. He can feel the fire of Fëanor ever urging him on. He imagined that at the end of this, he would find Maedhros and Maglor waving to him. Smiling at his bravery, praising his wit. All 55 years of it.

They retake the Gelion river, but it now ran so red and black that he mistook it for land. Bones yet fully formed were aching, and he oft fell face first into the disgusting waters and found his face or hand meeting the corpses that floated on the stagnant river. Elves, dwarves, orcs, fell things he not yet had a name for. And men out of the East. How dare they. How dare they taint the name of his houses.

He followed the company of Dwarves up into Lothlann. Finally, he can ditch that fucking river behind. The cost of it was so dire that he could see it in the eyes of his fleeting comrades.  _❛When will this end?❜_  he can almost hear their thoughts.  _❛When everyone dies.❜_  he finished in his heart out of pure spite against evil.

The heat from Anfauglith was so damned unbearable. Elrond was boiling in his armour. The child in him wanted to take it off. The child who grew up too fast stayed his hands. Just awhile more. Surely, just awhile more and he can look upon the warring faces of his foster fathers. See if he looked just like them.

_ Of course he doesn’t. If he did, why would they go for the jewels instead of stay for him? _

In Elrond’s mind, he was that much nearer to this pseudo goal that he felt himself tearing up.  _Soon. Soon. I can see them again. And maybe… I can be worthy of them._

_ I really don’t want Gil-galad, please. _

The flash of white light blinds everyone the second it went off. So suddenly out of the Western skies that Elrond and all the hosts staggered. He was in his youth still and he fell down on one knee, looking up to see the great white sails of a ship and the majestic birds that flanked it.

His father, Eärendil, had come to save them all.

And it was like a spell had fallen upon the young ellon and he felt like he was in Sirion once again, being excited of the news of his father returning from the shores. He felt that same childlike longing _–that was in truth so out of place in this hour–_  well up inside him.

If he could not have Maedhros and Maglor, would his own father take him and Elros back, then?

So he cried! He cried out! ❝Adar! Adar! I’m here!❞ shouted Elrond. But he couldn’t even hear himself! The thunder and fire masked every sound and his screams were as pebbles thrown upon the river running. Dried throat coughed up blood vehemently, caught in the fell ash of the blackened air.

Useless, he thinks himself. He’ll wait until his father had the victory, then perhaps there was time for their reunion.

Sickening though, because Ereinion decided to show up at this time to _❛retrieve❜_  him. Elrond stubbornly sat on the mud while many others began to retreat for weariness. Gil-galad handed his spear off to an elvenguard, bent down and laid a hand on a petulant Elrond who would not even look at him. Elrond’s eyes were glued to the skies. It was a dangerous place to sit but he did not wish to miss the second his father was free.

He was pulled up. Dragged, really, and he tried in vain to crawl away from the strong arms of Gil-galad. ❝Elrond! Let us depart this fell place! You can have your view elsewhere.❞

Elrond was unwilling to go further away from the scene, but alas he was so weak and weary that he let himself be led away. But still he stayed on the very edge of Lothlann where he had entered it in the first place, thinking to make a run for it when the time was right.

Elven eyes watched intently the scene of battle. Elrond felt the hint of victory before it even happened, and at once he bolted north and ran into the plains of Lothlann at top speed. Gil-galad shouted after him, chasing with a host of warriors in haste. When Ancalagon the Black fell upon Thangorodrim, the earth beneath them shook and many metals rustled when feet failed. Elrond also fell upon the ground, his knees hitting stone abruptly but his heart did not stop his charge. He crawled and crawled, ignoring the searing pain in his knees. He wanted to crawl his way to the foot Angband.

Showers and showers of heated lava rocks poured over North Beleriand. Gil-galad recovered quickly, but his heart ached at the sight just a few kilometers in front of him. There was his ward, beaten and fallen, flat on the ground. But he hardened his heart and trudged forward while the host behind him slowly find their ground again. What use was there if Elrond got to Thangorodrim? Eärendil might have already sailed away. Even now the star’s light fade in the skies, and not because of the piling smoke.

Gil-galad reached Elrond quicker than Elrond would have liked. Before the High King could do anything, Elrond choked out a sob, ❝Please. Please let me…!❞

Gil-galad soothes the elf’s back. Slowly, he picked Elrond up again. Alarmed, Elrond quickly writhed and his cries came strongly. ❝Let go! Let go!❞ and his hands rotated from trying to hit Gil-galad’s armoured chest to reaching out for the fading light of Eärendil’s star. ❝Adar!!! Adar I’m here!!!❞

The light went out. Eärendil sailed.

Elrond’s shoulders shook violently as he wailed in the cradle of Gil-galad’s arms, tears and saliva and snot covering his young face. An overwhelming sorrow took over him and he trembled. The fell energy saw his hands smashing in vain at the King’s armoured chest. ❝I hate you! I hate you!❞ he repeated over and over again.

It was a sorry sight as the warriors caught up to them. _❛That was his father…❜_ lamented one of the guards, thinking that Gil-galad should have let the child go.  _❛That is our wise King.❜_  another countered.

All Elrond saw through the wave of tears in his eyes was that everyone abandoned him that day. None of the guards helped him. None of them arrested this monster who separated him from his father.  **Every one of them should die.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I would definitely like to hear what are you opinions on Elrond in the War of Wrath and how much of a trainwreck Gil-galad must deal with after his decision to hold back Elrond? xD You can also [reblog on Tumblr](http://elerondo.tumblr.com/post/168541885375/headcanon-timeline-fa-587-war-of-wrath) to spread this piece of fanfiction, if you so wish.


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